Friday, January 16, 2009

In a few short days President Bush will hoof it back to Crawford and revert to his true calling: semi-pro brush-clearer. For all intents and purposes, his would-be presidential legacy has been reduced to a steaming pile of elephant shit. All thanks to a floundering economy. Well, that and a few other minor hitches. Point is, Bush II will probably never be remembered as the trailblazing, war president; rather, he'll be known as the guy who didn't stop reading a children's book to a class of 1st graders when a gigantic plane flew into the WTC, and stood by idly as the housing market crumbled into an equally large heap of rubble. What I've just described, however, is merely a version of reality.

According to "The Bush Boom", authored by Gary Busey (could it really be anyone else?), everything is just fine. Bush didn't fuck the economy up; he fixed it! We're boomin'. We're on the up-and-up. We're... not totally and completely fucked, we're just thinning the economic herd. Now, admittedly, the book hasn't been getting the best reviews on Amazon. The bad reviews outnumber the good by a margin of 2-to-1. Silly union workers. However, there have been several glowing 5-star reviews, like this one:

“Finally! A book that proves the existence of an alternate universe. Obviously, a rip in the space/time continuum between this universe and the other universe where Bush is presiding over a 'boom economy opened up and this book fell through. Can there be ANY other explanation?”

See! Bush didn't -- wait, what? Ironclad proof of an alternate universe? I guess the legacy is back on track; it's only a matter of time before he tries to take credit for this one.

Monday, January 12, 2009

So I saw "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway. Turns out, some genius in casting decided that a young, slender black man with the voice of a post-op choir boy would make a good King Triton. It was sort of like watching Mike Tyson threaten to eat Lenox Lewis' children for two hours. It should be terrifying, but that squeaky voice is just so damn hilarious. You see the dichotomy. Now, I'm sure this fellow is a fine actor, but we're talking about King Triton, here. This is Poseidon's son. He has a magic trident and lives in a giant, phallic castle made of coral (no matter what Snopes tries to tell you.) Granted, the whole "underwater penis castle" sounds a little off at first blush, but it's definitely badass compared to my one bedroom in Queens -- besides, who are you, Jerry Falwell? On top of all that, King T is a freakishly large man. (Or, "merman", as Derek Zoolander would probably point out.) Just look at him next to Ariel; his pinky is the size of her friggin' neck!

But "Stage Triton" is different. He's dancing all over the place, singing falsetto like Mariah Carey in that video where she's on roller skates. (Come to think of it, Stage Triton is on roller skates.) I'm sure the aim is to give the illusion that he's underwater. But it's just embarrassing. I mean, the guy's supposed to bellow, not pleeay. (Yes, I just spelled that phonetically. Two reasons: first, I'm too lazy figure out how to make an accent over the "e"; and second, because I, unlike the hybrid-driving, cage-free-egg-eating borzwa, don't feel obligated to insert dumb, correctly spelled French words into every day conversation, just because it's sheek, or whatever. And if you think I should've figured out how to make an accent, instead of go on a mildly nationalist tirade, you can mange du merde et meurt.) In case you were wondering, there's no such thing as "too lazy to look up insults." And as you probably guessed already, there's absolutely no such thing as too lazy to insult the casting department of "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway. They had it coming.

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Conventional Stupidity is a standing testament to my monumental tastelessness. If you enjoy the comforting embrace of political correctness, it's probably best if you just leave now and forget this ever happened. If you lack couth and conscience, you may have reached the promised land.